


Happily Yours

by OneUniqueIdiot



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, idk just a lotta gays
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneUniqueIdiot/pseuds/OneUniqueIdiot
Summary: This is basically disaster gay Steven Lim being gay af for Cat Witcher Andrew Ilnyckyj and talented cook Adam Bianchi, and Wolf Witcher Ryan Bergara bantering with Shane Madej until they fall into bed.This is heavily inspired by the incredible series of works called “The Accidental Warlord and His Pack” by inexplicifics on archiveofourown.  If there are bits and pieces that sound similar, whether they are characters and/or how characters are written, it is because I imagine this work occurring in the fantastic, lively world that they have created.  I do not claim their work as mine, nor do I wish to, and I certainly do not imagine my works to be extensions of theirs.  This is fantasy!  I just happen to enjoy the world they have borne, and I wish to mimic it.
Relationships: Adam Bianchi/Andrew Ilnyckyj, Adam Bianchi/Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Adam Bianchi/Steven Lim, Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Happily Yours

**Author's Note:**

> If you personally know someone in this fic, this is not for you.  
> I do not give permission for this to be copied anywhere or read in a video of any kind.
> 
> With that out of the way, I hope you guys enjoy!

There is something about battles that excite Ryan like no other. The feeling of fighting with his brothers and sisters, the sensation of the potions flowing through his veins, his blood roaring through his body and setting all his nerves alight: it’s incomparable. As he swings his sword, he can’t help the snarl of satisfaction as it cuts cleanly through the kikimora’s neck, severing its head from its body. He can sense another kikimora heading for him from behind, but he doesn’t cast a thought of concern because another Witcher pounces on the kikimora, dual-wielded swords ripping through the neck and killing the monster. Briefly, the Wolf Witcher turns around to seek out his friend, who has just backflipped off of the kikimora’s corpse and back onto solid ground. “Thanks Andrew!” he shouts, offering him a wild, adrenaline-pumped grin before he leaps back into the fray.

The Cat Witcher simply rolls his eyes and scoffs once, amused and fond. “Someone needs to watch your back,” he murmurs, lips quirking into a smirk when he hears Ryan bark out a laugh. At the distinct call of a kikimora getting steadily closer, Andrew turns on his heel and waits, swords sheathed and hands tensed. The moment the kikimora appears, he raises his hands and casts Quen, golden shields flying up in front of him. With another snap of his wrists, he casts Igni and swings his arm out, fire spiraling forth and consuming the kikimora completely.

However, he misjudges the distance between him and the monster, and ends up igniting his bag of clothing, which quickly burns to ashes. “Fuck!” he curses, sparing a moment to mourn the loss of his favorite shirt, then uses his frustration to further scorch the kikimora. The other Witchers in their group make quick work of the remaining two kikimoras, and Ryan approaches Andrew after he’s helped gather the heads of the kikimoras to collect their payment. “Hey Ilnyckyj! That was some pretty impressive Sign casting, albeit a _bit_ strong,” he teases, laughing when the Cat Witcher turns to just look at Ryan with a deadpan expression. “At least we’ll be heading back to Kaer Morhen after this, yeah?”

With a huff, Andrew elbows Ryan and walks alongside the Wolf Witcher as they head toward the rest of their party, who’re arguing playfully about who killed the kikimoras with the most showmanship. “I hope you don’t mind sharing clothes,” he replies after a moment, smirking when Ryan lets out a groan.

  
  


A week later, the Witchers arrive at Kaer Morhen, exhausted and dirty but in good spirits and plenty of wealth lining their pockets. They stop to debrief with Geralt and his council, then head towards the hot springs with glee. “Finally! I smell so fucking bad,” Ryan complains, tugging at his shirt with a frown. “I honestly might just burn my clothes anyway because they’re just covered in Melitele knows what.”

Andrew chuckles and murmurs agreement. “I don’t miss the loss of my clothes too much, although I did lose my favorite shirt,” he sighs, absentmindedly scratching his chest.

This gives Ryan pause, and as they reach the hot springs and begin to strip down, he mentions, “Y’know, you’ve said for a while that you need some more clothes. Why don’t you visit a tailor, get some clothes made?” At Andrew’s questioning look, Ryan laughs. “Kaer Morhen has quite a few tailors and seamstresses. Why not give them a go?” He pats Andrew’s shoulder and offers him a smile, continuing, “If you want a suggestion, I’d go see Steven Lim. He’s new, but he’s got some amazing fabrics, the really soft kinds you prefer, and he’s really good at what he does.” The Wolf Witcher pats Andrew one more time, then sprints towards the hot springs and launches himself into the hot springs to the tune of the other Witchers who are hooting and cheering him on.

“Steven Lim, huh?” As the Cat Witcher sinks into a more secluded area of the hot springs, he closes his eyes and ponders the idea for a while. _I suppose it wouldn’t hurt._

  
  


After cleaning himself off, Andrew stops by his room and changes into comfier clothing, and stops by the kitchen to grab something to munch on as he wanders through the halls in search for the tailors and seamstresses. It takes him about ten minutes to find the particular tailor he’s searching for, and with guidance from a seamstress named Sara, he finds himself in front of a glossy oak door with a brass plaque that says _Steven Lim, Tailor_.

When Andrew knocks on the door, he is startled by the cheery, “Come in!” and opens the door slowly, curious about the tailor who uses this room. At once, he is taken aback by the force of the thousand-watt smile turned on him, dark eyes twinkling merrily and a welcoming air around him. “Good afternoon, Witcher! How can I serve you today?” the tailor asks as he shakes out a large piece of fabric.

“Uhm,” Andrew falters, still adjusting to the energy of this man, and mumbles out, “just need some everyday shirts and trousers. I’m pretty low on them.”

“Of course!” The tailor gently sets down the fabric over the large oaken table, then turns around and flings open the doors of a wardrobe. “Do you have preference for colors? Material? Oh!” He turns his head and offers Andrew a smile, this one a bit softer. “I’m Steven, by the way, Steven Lim. It’s wonderful to meet you!” he introduces.

“Andrew Ilnyckyj of the Cat School,” he replies with a slight smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. As for my preferences,” Andrew pauses for a long, thoughtful moment, then continues a little hesitantly, “Darker colors and soft materials. I don’t really like scratchy material.”

“Wonderful, wonderful! Long sleeves or no for the shirts? I can do either, or both,” Steven asks as he turns back to the wardrobe to sort through the fabrics.

When there’s a couple seconds of silence, Steven glances over his shoulder, meeting soft amber eyes for a split second before they dart away. He waits, patiently, continuing to search through the wardrobe, and is rewarded when the Witcher lets out a sigh. A little bitterly, Andrew apologizes, “Sorry, I’m not very good at this. I’ve always just bought whatever was pre-made, so I’ve never had to…pick.” He rubs the back of his neck and sighs again, looking at the walls, but Steven’s reassurances help put him more at ease.

“Andrew, trust me, you don’t need to apologize. The only people who truly know what they want are Jaskier and the other humans. Most, if not all, of the Witchers, are just like you, except for Ryan, I’d say,” the tailor comments, pulling out a sheet of black fabric and eyeing it critically. He then walks over to Andrew and holds it out to him, startling the Witcher as he asks him, “Thoughts on this?”

With a glance at Steven, Andrew reaches out and touches the fabric, palm smoothing over the material. Almost at once, an urge to press his face into the cloth rises, and it takes him a second (or three) to control this impulse. _When was the last time I’ve felt something this soft?_ Reluctantly, he pulls his hand away from the sheet and risks a look at the tailor. Judging by the barely concealed smile on Steven’s face, Andrew figures he wasn’t as subtle as he had been hoping, and feels his cheeks warm with embarrassment. “Uh.” He clears his throat, then gestures helplessly to the material, jerking his head in something approximate to a nod. “That’s…that’s good.”

Privately to himself, Steven decides to use the softest materials he can get his hands on for this stoic, yet gentle Witcher, and offers Andrew a kind smile. “Alright. How many would you like?” He sets down the fabric on his desk and walks around it to grab his notepad and a pencil, flipping to a new page and scribbling down Andrew’s name. Quickly, he asks for the spelling of Andrew’s last name, which the Witcher supplies with an amused huff. “Fair warning, it may take me a few weeks to even a few months depending on the quantity,” Steven mentions as he writes down _shirts + pants_.

“That’s alright. I just got back from patrol, so I won’t be sent out for a while yet,” Andrew says absentmindedly, trying to remember how many clothes he has in his possession. Thinking about it, he only has three or four short-sleeve shirts left, including the one he’s wearing, and about the same amount of trousers (although he has plenty of underwear, thank Melitele). “I think I have three shirt-sleeve shirts and three trousers left, so…” Apparently, he paused too long, because Steven looks up from his notepad and smiles amusedly at him, an almost teasing smile that makes Andrew’s cheeks feel warm again.

“If you’ve only got three of each, I’ll make you quite a few more. Does ten of each sound good? I know Witchers run warm, so I’ll make five of them short-sleeve and five of them long-sleeve,” Steven suggests, already scribbling down ideas for colors and styles on his notepad while sneaking looks at Andrew. His eyes trail over broad shoulders and a strong, well-muscled form, and makes a note to use extra fabric so the clothing wouldn’t be too tight. “I also have to do some measurements, if that’s alright with you?” he adds, biting his lip nervously.

Andrew chuckles a bit and nods, smiling slightly at the tailor. “I will defer to you, and measurements are fine.” The Witcher stretches his arms and rolls his shoulders as he looks around the room, amber eyes falling on a small area near the back right corner, next to a large window. There was a small desk covered in needles, pencils, papers, and string, which he assumed was used for measurements. He points to the area and tilts his head slightly, meeting Steven’s curious gaze. When the tailor just blinks at him, Andrew can’t help but smile a bit wider, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk. “Measurements?”

“O-Oh!! Yes, of course!” As Steven ushers Andrew towards the measurement corner, he can’t help but remember the amusement that sparked in the Witcher’s amber eyes, if only for a moment, and the hint of a smirk he’d seen on that solemn face. When he feels his cheeks heat up, Steven gives himself a little shake and thinks to himself, _“Calm down Lim, you’ve known the Witcher for a total of five minutes, if that.”_

However, when he returns to himself and focuses on Andrew, he can’t help but swallow thickly as the Witcher leans against the windowsill and looks outside, the sun outlining him in gold and giving him an ethereal look.

_Melitele wept._

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW, first chapter done!! I haven't properly sat down and written a fic in probably close to a year, if not two (yay, college...), so hopefully this isn't too much of a mess to read!


End file.
